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Charlotte POV

It took me little under 40 seconds to nudge the knife from my side and into my mouth. I stretched my neck as far as I possibly could, to pass it into my right hand. I silently sent thanks for all those nights I spent in pure agony due to the heavy crunch-work I endured, as it made this entire endeavour so much easier. It was going to take some time, but I knew I would eventually be able to cut through the ropes he had confined me in, and, when I did, I gave a tired, yet partially victorious smile. I began working on my left hand, knowing the hardest part of this all was still to come.

I rubbed my wrist momentarily, then began work on my feet, which, due to my, thankfully, short 5 foot 2 stature, allowed for free movement on the surface of the bed, even within these restraints. There was a tension in my legs as the upper half of my body was now facing upwards, where as my legs and lower abdomen were still facing the bed.

The scent of friction between the knife and the wool permeated the air, and I saw the miniscule mites of fibre flittering in the air. I cut straight through the bindings, keeping an ear out for Edward's return. I tried to wiggle my toes, to check if they were broken or not and winced at the substantial surge of pain that sparked inside of me, however I trudged on as I couldn't let myself dwell on it. I was not allowing him to keep me here any longer - I would rather die than let that happen.

I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and cried out, as quietly as I could, in pain, and ended up biting down on the sock in my mouth, to damper the sound. It hurt like a mother fucker. After pulling out the pseudo-gag from my lips, I glanced down at the skin on my legs, and internally recoiled at the state they were in. The toes on my feet were swollen and the skin was broken in places.

The soles were bleeding; I could see the imprints of blood in even the lightest footprints I left on the laminated floor. My calves and knees were bruised a deep purple as the blood had risen to the surface, blackening my previously tanned skin. I prodded at the bruises and tensed at the acute tenderness, mentally noting to never do that again.

I was going to need to get that taken care of, and soon, but I needed to get out of here somehow. After a few moments of attempting and failing to stand on my own, I felt the slivers of depression, and the fear that settled deep in my stomach set the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck on end, twisting and turning my already empty stomach further. I wouldn't be able to walk anywhere; every time I tried to add even the slightest of pressure, I wanted nothing more than to scream out in pure anguish. I knew that there were people downstairs, and that they would eventually leave, meaning Edward would come back up and kill me.

Well, this is quite the predicament, wasn't it? I quietly pondered how I was actually going to get out of this.

I heard the opening of the front door and my panic increased tenfold, my heartbeat pummelling in my chest and epinephrine coursing through my veins. My heartbeat pounding in my ears and my vision tunnelled. I was working off basic instinct, and I launched my body hurtling towards the window to the right of the bed, knocking into the bedside table and knocking off the figurines, making a whole load of noise in the process.

My heart pounded louder and louder in my ears, and I couldn't stop myself from crying out into the quiet of the room. I needed to get out of here. I needed to escape. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see. It wasn't a want anymore, it was a need.

I knew that he had heard me because all was far too quiet downstairs, and my body released an unholy scream. I, shakily, kept myself upright by using what upper body strength I had to hold my body up by latching onto the window ledge, and what greeted my eyes was a God send.

Agent Morgan and Reid were retreating back to their vehicle, and I knew I needed to get their attention. Hastily, I used the chest of drawers nearest to me as a ledge to lean on and I heard Edward's quick footsteps booming up the staircase , taking two at a time to reach me.

Determination set in.

I wasn't going down without a fight, and I began smashing my palms and the sides of my fists against the window, with so much force, speed, precision and power that the skin split and began weeping with blood and a lengthy crack appeared in the glass, and screamed for them to help me, over and over again, begging for their attention. The window groaned under the assault, but did not smash completely.

The door was thrown open, a gush of stingingly cold breeze slapped against my bare back, and I refused to turn my head to witness a heavy breathing, fuming Edward was in the archway. I didn't slow down in my assault on the glass. He grabbed me from behind and laid a heavy hand across my mouth to shut me up. I bit deeply into his fleshy palm, and he hauled me out of the room and down the corridor with one hand in my hair, and the other flailing around, dripping with blood onto the furnished hallway carpet, into an empty, vacant room and threw me to the floor, watching in malice as I rolled across the cold, unforgiving floorboards.

He bellowed, "Shut up, you fucking bitch! They can't hear you. Nobody is coming to get you, do you understand me?!"

He reached behind him and pulled out a gun from his back pocket. A handgun, which in his clammy hands looked far too small, however I knew the real danger. He struck me in the face with the hand gun, pistol whipping me and breaking the skin in my hairline, watching in sadistic pleasure as crimson liquid dripped into my eyes. He pointed the weapon in my face and snarled, "On your knees. Quickly."

I glared up at him with nothing but malevolence and hatred in my gaze, although, quite fittingly, the blood tinged my vision red and refused to bend to his will. He grappled a fist in my hair, as he had done earlier, and heaved me upward, forcing me to my knees and embedded the gun nozzle directly between my eyes and grinned, a crazed look in his gaze, and cocked the gun while whispering, "Any last words?"

I stared at the gun, then up at him, and said, "I hope your daughter is looking down at you right now and is just as disgusted in who you've become as I'm sure your ex-wife is."

I smiled, spitefully at him, and there was explosive ferocity bled into his stare. It was like everything was running in slow motion, and, as another shot of adrenaline pulsated through my veins, I saw the ripple of the muscles in his chest as his index finger of his right hand pressed down on the trigger.

I barely was able to flinch before I felt more than saw the door slam open. The breeze brushed against my back, merciless and sharp against my skin once more and there were noises; ear-splittingly loud, raised voices swarming around me, and it all felt too close. Too intrusive. I wanted to get away from it all, but my body felt rooted to the spot I was in.

Edward released my hair, and my body collapsed, head colliding with the hardwood floor and my vision splitting in half. The headache I had been sporting not a moment ago tripled in strength, and I felt the reigns of consciousness slip away from my grasp, and suddenly the world faded to black, but not before I heard the tell-tale sound of a gun-shot split through the air.